Going Down East

We traveled north to Maine near Acadia National Park to attend the memorial service of a distant cousin of Justine’s. While Oliver has for the most part traveled well in the past, he really struggled with his sleeping schedule this trip. Of course, the all-important sleep schedule is (not surprisingly) lost on others without kids and, consequently, many of the scheduled events conflicted with naptimes and/or his early to bed schedule. While Oliver is not prone to throwing tantrums, come 8:30 or so he needs to go to bed or he's liable to come apart at the seams...very much a dreaded event for parents of young children.

Despite our best efforts, due to many late scheduled events this weekend poor Oliver literally collapsed exhausted into my arms more than once. While not ideal for him, I confess that it is quite moving to have your child fall asleep curled up in your arms. Several nights I carried him as he slept from the car into the cabin we rented, and I fondly recalled my own parents doing the same for me and my brothers when we were young. There are times you feel helpless as a parent, but this wasn't one of them. Right then, with my beautiful sleeping child in my arms, it was hard to imagine what I wouldn’t do to help him on his pathway through the world. It still amazes me to be so moved by his fresh life force, by his wide-eyed openness to the world, and his delight at each new discovery, but moved I still am.

Because of the trip, Oliver got to experience flying once again, but this time he was much more conscience of it. As the plane took off, he pressed his face intently against the glass. He was clearly impressed with the airplanes he saw on the ground and with our plane taking flight, though the purring of the jet engines soon lulled him to sleep. He also got his first boat ride when we motored across Taunton Bay to visit Burying Island, an island laden with history for Justine’s family. The island rises straight from The Mists of Avalon, such a magical place is it. This natural, unsettled and unspoiled outpost hosts a delicious fresh water spring and is covered with vibrant green moss, evergreens and oaks, with lichen, wild raspberries, blueberries, and lingenberries, and is crowned by its very own bald eagle who greeted us as we arrived.

It clearly filled everyone with great joy simply to step foot upon the island’s shores on such a fine October day, the day was further imbued with meaning as we were there to say goodbye to Pat Flagg who had spent so much of her life there. While this small collection of Burying Islanders came together to ponder the passing of one of the island’s great, longstanding loyalists, the group was also moved by young Oliver’s introduction to the island, many reaching back through the years to their own first visits. So, it was a pensive day of beginnings and of endings. Later, back on the mainland Justine, Oliver and I watched from our cabin window as the closest family members spread Pat Flagg's ashes over the bay and a Taunton Bay seal quietly surfaced nearby to pay its own respects and say goodbye.